How I Married Sherlock Holmes
by SlytherinDearie
Summary: Beth Lestrade's biography; joining with Scotland Yard and yes, eventually marrying Sherlock Holmes.
1. Chapter 1

As far back as I can remember, Sherlock Holmes has always been my idol. He was everything I wanted to be: smart and a good detective. The only problem was that I, Elizabeth Lestrade, was born two hundred years after him.

It wasn't enough for my family and his to be good friends, even before (and after) Gregory Lestrade and Sherlock Holmes worked together, I wanted to know him and learn from him.

My Dad's side of the family has a strong tradition, that is, whoever bears the surname Lestrade by birth, is strongly encouraged to become a police officer, or even better, an officer for New Scotland Yard, which is where my ancestor, Gregory, was an Inspector, but back in his time (sometime in the 19th century), it was just Scotland Yard.

I never had a doubt in my mind about what I wanted to do when I grew up. I always knew I wanted to be an inspector for New Scotland Yard. Not a doctor, not a veterinarian, a New Scotland Yard officer and nothing else.

I grew up in an ordinary town in America with my parents, Anna and Nicholas Lestrade. I was an only child. My mother was a stay at home mom and my father, of course, was a police officer in the town.

When I was 12, my parents and I moved to New London and of course, my Dad became part of New Scotland Yard and one of their best Inspectors. Around that time, I inherited the old journals of Dr. John Watson, a close friend of Holmes.

'Well, I guess this is as close to Sherlock Holmes as I'm gonna get,' I thought.

I don't know how many times I read those journals. I read the journals in my every waking moment, trying to learn from Holmes.

Everybody was a "Sherlockian" on my Dad's side of the family. My Grandfather was even in a Sherlock Holmes role-playing group that met every Wednesday to discuss the casebooks that were left behind. And no, he didn't play Holmes _or_ Gregory. He played Watson. We made fun of him so much for it!

I remember how my dad would freak out whenever a TV show parodied Holmes or portrayed him wrong.

"He had blue eyes and sandy blonde hair! His deerstalker and coat were _brown!_ Not plaid, not patterned, not black, _brown!_ Get it right people!" He would yell at the TV. To him the only person who had the 'right and ability' (as he put it) to play Holmes was Basil Rathbone and no one else.

One day, I was walking home from school (I was probably 14 then), reading one of the journals as I walked and I got lost, which is so much like me. When I realized that I wasn't where I should be, put the journal in my backpack and looked around.

'Baker Street', the nearest street sign told me. I looked behind me and saw the a sign that read, 'The Sherlock Holmes Museum.' I didn't even think twice about going in inside.

Once I was inside, I looked around, wondering if Holmes had actually lived there, because it looked like he did, that or the curators where doing a really good job making an ordinary flat look like the one Holmes and Watson lived in.

"May I help you, young lady?" A curator around my Mom's age and with a British accent asked me sweetly. If there's anything I hate, it's being called young lady, but I let it slip that one time.

"Yeah, uh..Did Sherlock Holmes actually live here?"

"Why yes he did and we made sure to preserve it the exact way it was when he died."

'Don't say he died at Reichbach Falls' I thought. That's another thing I hate. He died of old age years after Moriarty died at Reichbach Falls.

"May I ask you something? Just out of curiosity?" The curator asked.

I shrugged, "Sure."

"What's a teenager doing reading Sherlock Holmes? Are you doing a report?" People always thought it was weird for a kid to practically worship someone like Sherlock Holmes. It's not weird in my family... I have a 5 year old cousin who goes as Holmes every Halloween.

I smiled, trying to be kind and replied, "No, Holmes was a friend of my family and Inspector Lestrade is my ancestor. I'm Elizabeth Lestrade or Beth for short. I always thought Holmes was interesting. I didn't even know 221 B. Baker Street was still standing, I thought London destroyed it or something."

"Wow, that's very interesting! I'm Mary Giles by the way."

Over the years I became good friends with Mary Giles and I was constantly at the Sherlock Holmes Museum. In highschool, I even worked there for extra cash. Cleaning and things like that.

Then one day after I came home from the Museum, Dad was waiting for me. When he waited for me to come home, that's when I knew I was in trouble. Everytime I got into a fight at school, he was always there waiting for me to come home.

"Beth, I want to show something." He said simply. I noticed he was holding the keys to his cruiser as he gestured for me to follow him to it. He took me to the Yard. He then took me down to the basement. He ordered the lights on and led me to the very back. What I saw was something tall, hidden under a brown tarp.

Dad grabbed it, pulling it off as he said, "Beth Lestrade, meet Sherlock Holmes!"


	2. Chapter 2

When I saw what -who-, was under that tarp, I jumped several feet back and cursed, hitting a crate with my back. My dad chuckled, muttering something about me being a Lestrade.

Under the tarp was indeed Sherlock Holmes. I expected to see his decayed corpse, but I saw Holmes as though he was asleep in a weird yellow, gooey liquid. He was perfectly preserved, looking the same as he did when he died.

"He's been preserved in honey. Worked quite effectively didn't it?"

"It's like some science experiment. "I muttered, staring at Holmes in awe.

I was standing in the same room with my idol, my hero, the man I've always looked up to and had the utmost respected for. I was disappointed, however, that he didn't even know I was there.

"Yeah, Scotland Yard's idea to do this. I don't know how our ancestor got Holmes to do this. Guess Holmes had his own reasons. Scotland Yard has been trying to resurrect him since the week he died. I remember when I first met Holmes, your grandfather brought me down here and when I saw him, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Holmes here has seen every Lestrade since Gregory. Kinda like another tradition our family has along with trying our damnedest to bring him back. The bastard just won't respond to any method. Guess he's just waiting for the right Lestrade."

In my last few months of Highschool, I relied on Holmes. I was with him as much I was at the Holmes Museum. Whenever I had a problem or a crappy day, I'd go to him and vent. I liked the idea of him not able to disagree with me.

When it came time for college, it seemed I spent every waking moment with Holmes. I don't know what frightened me so much. I guess I was afraid of letting my family down.

In college, I met Alice Murphy and Edith Presbury. They were the closest I ever had to having true friends. I have the tendency to be a loner sometimes, but I have fond memories of the three of us, starving in our dorm, of us sitting in the dark talking while eating cheetos and living off of the sweets Edith's father sent us.

One day during class, I had the 'brilliant' idea of introducing Alice and Edith to Holmes.

'Hey, I want you to meet someone after class.' I wrote on a slip of paper and sent it down the table to Alice and Edith. The tables only held three people and our table was, thankfully, in the back of the room.

The Professor, Professor Binns, had the tendency to spit when he talked and he wouldn't tolerate passing notes or talking. Alice, Edith, and I, of course, ignored that rule. He hated us and we knew it and laughed at it. He never tried to punish us to severely because he was afraid of all our father's. Especially mine and Edith's.

After class, we all got into my hovercraft and drove to the Yard. I had been there so many times, people knew me by name as I knew them. The only person I haven't met was Chief Inspector Grayson.

"Hey Beth, what're you doing here?" Dad asked.

"Gonna let Alice and Edith meet Holmes." I replied.

Dad chuckled and went on his way.

"Who's Holmes?" Alice asked.

"You'll see." I replied mischievously as I led them down to the basement.

I had yet to tell them anything about Holmes. Not about my family being huge fanatics for him or that Gregory worked with him time to time. All they really knew about my family was our little tradition of the Yard.

When we arrived in the basement, I showed them to Holmes' hidden casket.

"Hey guys, say hi to Sherlock Holmes!" I said as I pulled off the tarp. Alice squealed and jumped away. Edith ewwed and averted her eyes.

"Hey, he's not that disgusting….if you aren't close enough to see where the wrinkles got so bad that they cracked…" I said, examining him.

It was true, Holmes had been in there so long, he was beginning to deteriorate. The wrinkles in his face had gotten so deep, that they cracked, exposing what was underneath. And that was only what we could see. Everyday that pasted by, the chances of him actually being resurrected got slimmer and slimmer.

"W-why is he here?" Alice asked.

"To be brought back to life of course! My ancestor Gregory Lestrade talked him into it before he died." I answered casually.

"B-but I-I saw if grave stone at the cemetery!" Alice stuttered as slowly, Edith began to look at Holmes silently.

"It was all a hoax. He even had a funeral. All his friends and family were there. They didn't know about the plan. Well, except my ancestor and Watson. Oh yeah, Holmes wasn't there either. It was a closed casket funeral. He was here at the Yard and he's been here ever since."

"What are the chances of him actually been resurrected?" Edith asked, walking closer to Holmes.

"Back in his day, it wasn't even possible since the technology wasn't around, but now, the more time that passes, the less likely it is for him to be resurrected. His body is getting old and decaying despite the honey." I explained.

"Has anyone tried to?" Alice asked.

"Yeah. A few times like right he died. Twice in the 1980's. The Yard is set to try it again next month."

Words could not express how excited I was about the resurrection. I knew it would work this time. We had the technology and a promising scientist from Scotland to do all the science. The scientist was named Colthos McTavish. He was a tall red haired man with wire rimmed glasses in his forties and a thick accent. He definitely looked the part. The best part was that I was allowed to watch the process.

On the day of the resurrection, I awoke bright and early and met my Dad at the Yard to help bring Holmes to McTavish's lab.

Word of the resurrection had leaked to the public and the press was eating it all up. Only one news team was allowed to watch the resurrection though. As we drove to McTavish's lab, the press was following us to undoubtedly wait outside the lab for the moment when Holmes walked out.

When we arrived, Dad and his colleagues carried Holmes' casket inside, leaving the press to wait. The news crew that was actually allowed to watch was really annoying by getting in my way and obscuring my view.

"Good, good. Bring him in here." McTavish said as I followed Dad into the lab.

Dad and his colleagues laid the honey filled casket on an operating table and opened it. I laughed out loud when I saw the camera crew and anchor woman hold their nose. The only thing you could smell was the old honey. With gloves that reached to their elbows, Dad and colleagues reached in a pulled him out carefully. The camera crew bustled around Holmes and I couldn't see anymore. I probably didn't want to anyway. I missed them cleaning him off. Finally, I was able to push myself through the crowd and was able to see McTavish hook Holmes up to heart and brain monitors. They were successful in telling us what we already knew; that he was dead. McTavish started to attach Holmes to more machines.

"What are you doing Doctor?" The anchor woman asked.

"Attaching him to what we call the Shock Machine. It works like heart paddles, sending electrical shocks into his body. The theory is that if we can restart is heart, we'll be able to revive the rest of the bodily systems in time." McTavish explained.

He instructed us to enter a room adjacent to the lab with a viewing window for safety. McTavish and his assistants took their places at the controls to the Shock Machine.

Dad came up behind me and squeezed my shoulder. "Ready to meet your hero Beth?" He asked.

"You can't imagine how ready I am. I have so many questions I want to ask him that it's not even funny." I replied.

"Start out with 10 volts." McTavish said.

"Yes, Doctor." The assistant replied.

I jumped when Holmes' body jumped.

"20 volts."

The volts increased in intervals of 10 all he did was jump and nothing else. This went on until late at night. It was 2:30 in the morning when an assistant said, " There is no sign of brain or heart function."

McTavish nodded and said, "Then I think it's time we returned him to his well deserved rest."

My hopes came crashing down. I kept telling myself how stupid I was to believe it would actually work.

Dad and I left an hour later with Holmes in his honey filled casket once again.

The failure was all over the news and newspapers. I focused on my studies and nothing else.

"Don't be upset, Beth. Holmes will come back when he wants. He'll probably come back for you." Edith said playfully.

In a flash, I had graduated and I found myself sitting in a room filled with gonnabe or wannabe New Scotland Yard officers, taking the finals over our training. Since my family is so well known in Scotland Yard, I felt the pressure to do my best or better than my best.

Somehow, I past the test.

I started out as a constable for New Scotland Yard, doing small things and working with minor offenders.

One night, after I gotten of duty, I drove to my apartment as usual. When I got out of my cruiser, I had the sound of muffled screaming coming from a nearby alleyway. Without a single thought for my own safety, I half walked, half ran to the sound of the muffled screams, keeping my hand on my ionizer.

When I came to the alleyway, I saw a man in his early 20's raping a girl no older than 16. My mind numbed at the sight. The girl was crying and trying to scream, but the man's hand was pressed over her mouth. I was suddenly filled with rage.

"FREEZE!" I exclaimed pointing my ionizer at the rapist.

The rapist pulled himself out of the girl, rebuttoned his jeans, and turned to me. "You won't shoot." He said smugly, still coming down from the rush of endorphins from an orgasm.

"Really?" I said with a raised eyebrow, "I think I will," and I did, binding him. " I have a rapist that needs to be picked up," I said into my wrist communicator. I later found out that the man had attacked more the 30 women and had never been caught until I found him.

Several weeks later, I was called into Chief Inspector Grayson's office.

'Oh zed, I must have really screwed up somewhere.' I thought.

As I walked to his office, I felt as though I was walking to my death. Like I was going to be burned for witchcraft. I knew I had done something to disgrace my family name. I'd rather die than do that.

When I came to his office, he was sitting at his desk, with my father next to him. "You're the constable who caught that serial rapist, right?"

"Yes, sir," I said trying not to stutter.

"None of my best inspectors who I assigned the case ever found him. However, you, a mere constable did. For that, I'm promoting you to inspector."

"Whoohoo!" I exclaimed, I ran up to Grayson and kissed him right on the lips and ran down the hall, yelling "I got promoted!" I only became louder when I realized that I had skipped a rank.


	3. Chapter 3

Authors note: I added to chapters one and two. You might want to read those chapters before this if you're my earlier readers.

My first month as an inspector, did not go well. I was constantly reprimanded for my methods by Grayson and my father for acting on impulse and among other things. Like arguing with Grayson.

"Lestrade, you are on my last nerve! You are more trouble than you are help!" He bellowed at me one day.

"How's that?! I've caught every criminal you assigned me to!" I yelled in my defense, slamming my fists on his desk.

"You hold the record for the most cruiser crashes and high speed chases in the least amount of time." Grayson said simply.

'Ouch, he does have a point.' I thought, "But I caught the criminal!"

Grayson leaned forward and said, "I'll give you a month to get your act together. I'm only doing this because your family has been in the Yard for generations, not because I like you. If you're still acting like a raving maniac by May 31st, you will be fired. Dismissed."

I stood there in shock with my mouth gaping. Did I hear him right? I couldn't believe I was being threatened to be fired! Slowly, I turned and walked from the office.

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That night at my apartment, there was a knock at my door. It was my Dad.

"Hey, I heard that you and Grayson had a little chat today." He said as he sat down on the couch with me.

"Yeah." I said, refusing to look at him. I couldn't explain or comprehend the amount of shame I was feeling.

"Beth, you're going to have to think before you act! It's all the stupid stuff you're doing that's going to get you fired! That's the only problem you have. That and you can be on the volatile side.."

"But I caught the criminals didn't I? I'm just doing what Holmes and you have taught me. Think like the criminal. Do you think the criminals think before they act? No. Holmes had his own way of doing things and I have mine. If I can't work a case the way I want to, then I rather not be a part of New Scotland Yard." I replied, crossing my arms over my chest.

"But Holmes wasn't part of the Yard, he was a consulting detective. You know that, Beth! When he did something impetuously, he didn't have as much to lose or as far to fall as you do. All I'm asking is for you to rethink your methods."

"I won't. If I get fired, fine. I'll go back to America and do whatever. Maybe Grayson will realize just how many criminals I caught." I said defiantly.

Dad sighed and said, "You do that, Beth. See how long you last." With that, he left.

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That night, I had an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. I wasn't sick or anything, I felt like something bad was about to happen. So much so, I wasn't able to sleep that night. Around three in the morning that night, the sound of my wristcom going off woke me up. I had had a whopping grand total of five minutes of sleep.

"What?" I asked groggily as the image of Grayson appeared on the screen.

"Lestrade, I need you down at Yard ASA immediately!" He exclaimed as his picture disappeared.

"Whatever you say…"

I started to get dressed and was sure to grab the most potent energy drink in my fridge. I was going to need it…

When I arrived at the Yard and Grayson's office, I saw my Mom and Aunt Julie on my Dad's side there with Grayson.

"What's going on?" I asked, looking from my Mom, Aunt and boss.

"He hasn't told us, Elizabeth." Julie said angrily towards Grayson. She always had a temper and called me Elizabeth.

"Nicholas Lestrade has been killed in the line of duty. I'm terribly sorry for your loss." Grayson said calmly.

I stood there in shock once again. Next to Holmes, Dad was my hero. I never could imagine my life without him. There was no two ways about it, I just couldn't wrap my mind around the thought of my father not in my life!

Mom dissolved into tears as Julie took her into her arms with silent tears running down her own cheeks. "How did it happen?" Julie asked.

"To be completely honest, we have no idea. One of our constables found him shot and dead."

"Well get someone on the case! I want answers!" Mom exclaimed through hysterical tears.

"That's why I'm assigning your daughter and your niece to the case. This case just might redeem you, Lestrade." Grayson replied, staring me down.

Before I could even speak, Julie cut in.

"What!? Is this some sick joke?! Aren't there laws against this?!" The last question she looked at me, then shouted at Grayson more. "Putting the daughter in charge of the case of her father's death! It's disgusting! Elizabeth doesn't want the case!"

"Don't you dare try to speak for me, Julie." I said coldly, trying to keep my tears in check. I looked back at Grayson. "I want the case."


	4. Chapter 4

The case of my father's death was easily the hardest case I have ever or will ever work on. It was mentally and emotionally taxing. When you work on a case, you have the ability to distance yourself from the victim since you never knew him or her. Working on the murder case of a loved one, you don't have that ability. It makes everything harder. I constantly worried if he suffered or not. I felt worse because I yelled at him last time I saw him.

Instead of worrying about the fact that I never got to apologize for him, I turned all of the sadness into the energy and strength I needed to solve his case. It would be my way of apologizing to him.

My team of officers and I scoured the crime scene for evidence. The only lead we found was shoe prints moving away from the crime scene and eventually disappearing. An officer took casts of the prints and sent them back to the Yard to be analyzed.

When I got the analyses I was elated. A hole in the case was blown wide open, it was possible to have my father's killer behind bars within the week, if not within the hour. The killer had worn shoes from website the night it happened.

"There was the website's logo on the bottom of the boot. We can get in touch with the website and see who they sold this style of boots to in New London." A lab tech explained.

"Do it now." I said, and turned to go to brief Grayson on the finding.

"Looks like you won't be fired after all, " He said, sounding more than a little disappointed. "but don't get your hopes up, cases are rarely this easy."

After I updated Grayson, I checked on the techies to see if they had any names yet. They did. His name was Jason Dawes. He had prior arrests and convictions for assault and battery, possession of an illegal substance and armed robbery. He probably mugged my dad for drug money and killed him to cover his tracks.

When we caught him, he was as high as a kite and barely knew what was happening to him. I laughed to myself when I thought about his reaction when he wakes up tomorrow in a jail cell.

I felt a great sense of relief after catching this criminal not only because my father's killer was in jail, waiting to be sentenced, but also that one more criminal was behind bars. That made New London just a little more safer. It was times like that reminded me why I became a police officer.

It wasn't long before Grayson called me into his office again.

"Ok Chief, I'm starting to think you're just making excuses to see me now." I said jokingly as I walked into his office.

I stopped dead in my tracks once I saw what was in his office. A compudroid. They are used for rookies who are new to the force to monitor them. I did not need a compudroid nanny! I knew what I was doing!

"Lestrade, just because you solve all of your cases, doesn't mean I'm letting you off scot-free! You need constant surveillance!"

"God Chief…you make it sound like I destroy part of New London when I'm on the job."

"That's exactly what you do! Ever since you got here you have taken down 15 trees, 6 light poles, and you absolutely destroyed a plastic Santa Claus that stood in the park every Christmas since 2005! Not to mention that you drew a moustache on the statue of Harry Potter in Kings Cross!"

"Sorry…I'm Team Snape…gosh."

"And not to mention that accosted a fellow officer just because she was reading a book you didn't like!"

"She was reading _Twilight_! That series single-handedly killed vampire folklore. Not to mention it's horribly written, the author was greedy, it's demeaning to women…"

"SHUT UP!" Grayson yelled, cutting me off. "Do you think I care!?"

I had to force myself not to say yes just to annoy him.

"Just take the compudroid and go! I haven't had my heart pills yet and you're about to give me a heart attack!" He ordered.

I sighed, taking the compudroid with me, my own ball and chain. There went the fun.


	5. Chapter 5

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For the first few weeks I had the Compudroid ball-and-chain, I began to call him Watson out of spite. He was not the Watson I had wanted, he was the equivalent of a playground tattle-tale! Every little thing I did wrong was set to the Yard. It got to point I had him off more than on.

One night while I was on patrol, I had old Lady Gaga songs blaring when I was nearly hit by another cruiser, flying in the wrong lane. I quickly dodged the cruiser, turned on my siren and lights, pursuing it. I suspected that whoever was driving was drunk and needed to be stopped before someone got hurt. I followed the old and beaten up cruiser for several minutes until I was able to pass by and cut the driver off. He didn't take the hint however, he plowed right into me, sending my cruiser spinning. The driver was nearly out of my line of vision when I got control again.

"This is the only time it's acceptable to have road rage…" I thought aloud as I sped up. I knew the only way I'd get this guy was if I could crash him. "Just think of it as bumper cars, Watson."

The only problem was that I had to crash him, _safely. _"Oh wait! I forgot about that!" I pressed a button on the console that could turn off the ion thrusters of the cruiser I wanted. And, I was all ready to crash him! We both landed in a nearby park. I got out, my hand on my ionizer, ready for a fight. The man who got out of was cruiser was grotesque. He was shabbily dressed, had thinning red hair and was hunchbacked.

"You caught me Yardie, but I am only the tip of the iceberg." He said in a thick French accent. Out of nowhere, he pulled out his own ionizer and shot. I quickly jumped out the way, the ion bullets hitting my cruiser, silencing my radio.

"I didn't like that song anyway." I said, pointing my ionizer at him.

"Catch me if you can, Yardie!" The man yelled, running off and laughing manically.

"I need backup at New London Park. Suspect is evading arrest." I said into my comlink.

I took of chasing after him, never letting him out of my sight. "We're going to corner him in the middle of the park. Swanson, you take the north entrance, Miller the south, Bentley the west and Stephenson the east!" I ordered. All the officers confirmed.

The suspect looked like a trapped rat when we caught him and was promptly taken into custody. When he was booked, I researched him. His name was Martin Fenwick. He showed up on the Yard's radar when he started violating medical ethics and burglary to fund his experiments. He used humans and animals in his research. His latest project was to how many organs can be taken away from a human before death. I really didn't want to read about the rest.

I went to bed knowing he was behind bars, only to learn the next morning he was placed on parole.


End file.
